


Burn You Like the Midday Sun

by Sang_argente



Series: wincest love week (summer edition) [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Dean, Established Relationship, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 18:07:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7184636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sang_argente/pseuds/Sang_argente
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam comes back from another fruitless research attempt at the ten book library on main street to find Dean spread naked on the bed and sweating.</p>
<p>“Air conditioner quit,” Dean grunts out, throat dry and clicking. “Manager said he'd fix it tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“Tomorrow?” Sam asks. He moves toward the bathroom, stripping as he walks.</p>
<p>“Sunday.”</p>
<p>“Ah.” Sundays are powerful things in the south.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burn You Like the Midday Sun

Hunting in the south in the middle of June is honestly the worst decision and yet they make it every year. Dean claims that with air conditioning it's not so bad, Sam claims Dean bitches about the heat every time he has to step outside.

The truth is that it's miserable and they both know it. They're in northern Arkansas (have been for days) and the temperature is doing it's damnedest to climb to a hundred degrees (has been for days). The ghost they're hunting was apparently buried under some tree in the little town they've been hold up in for a week, but they still haven't found it.

Sam comes back from another fruitless research attempt at the ten book library on main street to find Dean spread naked on the bed and sweating.

“Air conditioner quit,” Dean grunts out, throat dry and clicking. “Manager said he'd fix it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Sam asks. He moves toward the bathroom, stripping as he walks.

“Sunday.”

“Ah.” Sundays are powerful things in the south. Mothers scrub their children raw, stores stay closed, and, apparently, motel managers leave their clients to stroke out in the sweltering heat. Sam shakes his head at his reflection while wetting towels in the bathroom sink.

“Here,” he says to Dean. He spreads a cold hand towel over Dean's stomach, watching in fascination as his tiny brown nipples pebble immediately.

“Mm,” Dean smacks his lips and cracks open an eye to watch Sam place another towel on his feet. “‘S’nice.”

“Yeah? Good.” Sam steps away from the bed for a moment and comes back with a dripping bottle of water. He cracks the lid off, throwing it onto the nightstand, and tucks a hand under Dean's head. “Drink.”

Dean opens his mouth and lets Sam pour liquid nirvana down his throat. He wouldn't usually let his little brother fuss over him like this but the heat takes the fight out of him. “Thanks, Sammy.”

Sam hums and pulls the bottle away, setting it on the nightstand. Tucking his chilly hands under Dean's back, Sam rolls him over onto his stomach.

“What're you doing?” Dean asks, curious but not worried. Sam's never done anything he didn't like, not really.

“Ssh, just lemme take care of you.”

“Alright, Sammy.”

It's a long, drawn out process. Sam starts by caressing the heated skin of Dean's back with a small soaked rag, dragging the cool cloth down his spine and across his shoulders. He does that until the rag is barely wet and twice as hot. Then, he runs his fingers over the same path, walking them from freckle to freckle.

“Watch yourself,” Dean slurs. He doesn't like too much attention paid to his freckles, never has.

“Sorry, De,” Sam says, bending over Dean's prone body to place soft kisses in random spots. He doesn't deliberately ignore the tiny beauty marks, but neither does he seek them out. Instead he flutters kisses over Dean's sharp shoulder blades, down the bumpy ridge of his spine.

He takes a moment to breathe, just inhales the heat musky scent of his big brother. A thousand scenes of summer days in motel rooms just like this one flick through his mind and he can't wait anymore. Bending down low, Sam sucks a wet kiss into both dimples at the base of Dean's spine, his hands sliding over the firm flesh underneath that questioningly.

“Mm, yeah,” Dean groans as he arches up into Sam's hands. “Go ahead, baby boy.”

Sam spreads Dean's ass cheeks gently and looks down at his favorite part of Dean's body greedily. It's just as tight and pale as it always is, but Sam's on a mission. He's going to open that little hole, make it pink and gaping just for him, just for his cock. And he's going to do it just like Dean likes.

It's not a secret that Dean thinks he's fantastic at oral sex, male or female, and Sam agrees. He's never gotten his dick sucked as nice as Dean does it and he's almost entirely sure he's seen Heaven at least one of the times Dean ate his ass. But Sam is better.

He doesn't get the chance to rim Dean half as often as he'd like, so he saves all his good moves for the rare times Dean lets him. He starts with soft kisses all over Dean's cheeks, creeping in closer to his hole every time he switches sides. Then, it's time for a little tongue and teeth. He licks and nibbles up and down Dean's ass, stopping every now and then to tongue at his hole. It only takes a minute or two of that before he just can't pull himself away anymore. He goes at Dean's hole like a starving man at a free buffet, the sweet musk that coats his tongue just as delicious. He laps and strokes and twists and probes, spit slicking his way as it dribbles down his chin. It's so good, just like always, but. he wants more.

“Dean,” Sam pants out, barely moving away from his big brother's sloppy hole. It's just as pink and open as he was hoping for. “Can I-”

“Yes, God!” Dean almost shouts, pushing himself up into his hands and knees. “Yes, please, fuck me, Sammy, please.”

“Alright, alright,” Sam soothes as he sits up to reach for the lube they keep under the pillow. He runs a gentle hand against Dean's side, hushing him. “Don't work yourself up, c’mon now. It's too damn hot for that.”

“No shit,” Dean spits out.

And it is, really. Dean's long since kicked his towels away and Sam is dripping sweat, can feel it sliding down his back, but they're not stopping. Sam uncaps the lube and pours a generous amount into his hand, slicking his cock and brushing the rest against Dean's hole in a careless move.

“Ready?”

“Sam, I swear to God, if you don't fuck me- ugh, yes!”

“Yeah?”

Dean nods frantically, twisting his head around to watch Sam's face as he thrusts inside him. “Yeah, Sammy, oh yeah. Just like that. C’mon, baby boy, right there.”

“Fuck,” Sam grunts as he thrusts. Dean's always so tight and hot, but in this heat Sam's almost worried his dick is going to melt off. He can't stop now though, not when he can feel the tightness of his orgasm creeping into his balls. “Shit, Dean. God, you're so hot. Feel so good. Fuck.”

“Yeah, you do,” Dean whines, stripping his cock with a rough jerking. Sweat slicks his way but if he doesn't come soon he just might rip his dick off. “Make me come, Sammy. Please, Sammy, please.”

Sam angles his hips, making his cock brush against Dean's prostate with every thrusts, and curves his body around Dean's. He brings a hand up and around to play with one of Dean's nipples, pulling and pinching it sightlessly. “Yeah, De, yeah. C'mon, come for me. Come now!”

A choked scream sputters out of Dean's throat as he comes, hard and trembling. Between the way his hole clenches and he cries out for Sam, Sam can't hold back, doesn't want to. He comes deep in Dean's ass, his arms tight around Dean's chest, and slumps against his back tiredly.

It's quiet for a long moment, their breaths struggling to regulate and their hearts slowing down. It's the kind of post-sex cuddle Dean can barely stand on a good day, let alone on the hottest day of the summer with a broken air conditioner, so Sam isn't surprised when he gets elbowed in the side.

“Get off me, bitch,” Dean grumbles, too weak to actually move sam but too stubborn to let him lay on him for too long.

Sam sighs loudly, trying to hold back a smile as he peels himself off his brother. “Let me guess, you want me to get you a towel, too?”

“Duh. A cold one.”

“Jerk,” Sam teases. He digs his hands into Dean's ribs as he stands, relishing in the tiny yelp it causes it. He spies one of the towels from earlier in the floor and grabs it, taking it to the bathroom and soaking it again.  
He takes the towel back to bed and slides it over and under Dean, cleaning the best he can when Dean's deadweight. Throwing it back into the floor, he lays beside Dean and sighs tiredly.

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean mumbles into the pillow, already half asleep. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Sam replies, even if he's sure Dean can't hear him. He's almost too scared to go to sleep, not wanting to lose this strange softness the heat has caused in Dean. But the manager promised to fix the air conditioner tomorrow and Dean's sure to return the favor. He supposes that's a good enough trade and falls asleep with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3 of wincest love week for the wonderful sheriffjodes.
> 
> If you like this, I'll be participating in queersamweek, sastiel love week, and samifer love week. Prompts are also open at my [tumblr.](http://stilesthesasswolf.tumblr.com)


End file.
